Ready
by mentalagent13
Summary: Based loosely on the season 6 finale. Jane's thoughts mostly. My version of what should happen.


**A/N:** This story came to me and I had to write it immediately. I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. I read over everything, but sometimes I miss little things. The story is based off of the previews for the season 6 finale, which is why I felt the need to rush this one out. I would love to hear your thoughts about this one. Happy reading! **Note:** She is always Lisbon and He is always Jane, for some reason I feel like saying/thinking her name is important in a story like this.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing pertaining to The Mentalist.

**Ready**

He wasn't prepared for this. No, it had never occurred to him that this could ever happen. He was the one that left, and always abruptly. She was leaving, and she was giving him a small amount of time to adjust to the idea before she did. Granted, it wasn't a lot of time, but he could still see her. He wouldn't have to find her; she told him exactly where she was going. He had almost laughed out loud about how absurd this entire situation was. He had spent the last decade finding her and keeping her. He never once considered that she would choose to leave.

The moment she mentioned that this would be their last case together he had internally cringed. His attempt at joking covered his dread well. She didn't see his expression change. He wanted to make it feel like it always had; to be able to cherish the memory of her, of them for as long as possible. His memory palace was set; there was an empty space for this one. He had begun creating the space as soon as he found out she was going to D.C.

The case was over too quickly for him. She said good-bye to them all underneath a good luck banner. He almost didn't attend the party. It would have been easy for him to slip out. No one paid much attention to him when he was quiet. She had been the only one to monitor him constantly. Fischer hadn't yet caught on to the fact that he was much more dangerous when he was quiet. Quiet and contemplating was a vicious combination for him. It probably always would be.

It was Cho who made him go, if only for a moment. He was the only one who would have been able to do it anyway. The FBI people didn't matter nearly as much as the old CBI team. Wayne and Grace had given their blessing over the phone; there was no need for them to come to Texas. Cho had come over to his couch 10 minutes into the party and stood staring at him for a moment. He could feel the other man's presence, but had chosen to pretend he was sleeping.

"Get up, Jane," Cho had said in the commanding voice he usually reserved for criminals. Nothing else needed to be said. Those three words were an understanding between friends. He would never forgive himself if he didn't take a moment to say good-bye and Cho recognized that fact. Any attempt at cajoling him would have been fruitless. He was a stubborn bastard at times. Everyone recognized that.

When he finally did roll over and sit up, Cho was already back at the party laughing with one of the other agents. He mumbled a few half-hearted words of dislike in Cho's direction that he didn't mean before getting up. He moved toward the break room with the pretense of getting a cup of tea. He had his hands in his jacket pockets as he made his way nonchalantly to where everyone was gathered. The laughter was unmistakable and much preferred over the fear and sadness the unit had felt over the past few days. Human trafficking always brought out the deep emotions. Those with significant others and families held on tighter during cases like the one they had just been through.

Once his tea was made, he strolled over to her. Her eyes found his and he couldn't hold back the small smile he gave her. She continued to talk to the agent in front of her while he stuck up a conversation with Fischer. He could tell by the way Kim acted around him that she had taken the time to tell Kim everything she felt Kim needed to know about how to handle him. He can sense a small trace of fear behind Kim's easy smile. Kim isn't afraid of him, just some of the things that he has done, and what he is capable of. He can't say that he is completely proud of the man he has become, or the things that he has done, but he is much happier now. Kim is intrigued by him, more so than she was when they first met. Kim views him as an asset, nothing more. She always saw someone worth saving, and that makes all the difference.

He stayed long enough to wish her good luck with the others before going back to his couch. He caught Cho's eye on the way back and the man nodded, satisfied. Cho wanted the party to be a success for her, so he would have done anything to make it that way for her. He suddenly realized Cho would have picked him up and carried him to the party if it had been absolutely necessary. Why couldn't she see the absolute dedication she had from the people here? Who was in D.C.? Some man who had pledged himself to her…

His body made contact with the couch before he bothers to finish the thought. That line of thinking wouldn't get him anywhere. He decided to remain on his couch of the rest of the night. He won't sleep, everyone knows that, but he pretends to anyway. He refused to face the party. Instead, he chose to remain on his side staring into the back of the couch. There was nothing left for him to see. He only wanted to allow himself to feel everything.

He was so wrapped up in his own agony that he missed the most important detail of the night. He missed the one thing her needed to see. As she left, she didn't go to him. She chose to leave alone; she didn't want anyone or anything to hold her back this time. Yet, she couldn't help it. She wanted the last thing she saw to be something important to her. He didn't realize that the last thing she chose to look at before she left was him. She studied the way he curled his body up on the couch. She didn't miss the fact that he was curled tighter than usual, a sign of internal distress. This is the last memory of him she took with her that night. A memory that will haunt her if left unchecked.

He made his mind up purely by chance. It had nothing, yet everything to do with her. He wouldn't let her go without talking to her first, privately. It would have to be on the plane, and it was going to be tough catching it. He considered flagging the plane for possible terrorist activity, but she'd find out it was him and everything he was about to fight for would disintegrate in front of him.

Running out onto to tarmac to stop the plane seemed ludicrous to him. It also felt like something out of a romance novel. Too bad he didn't have another choice. Thankfully, the plane doesn't move as he ran toward it like an absolute manic (which many consider him to be anyway). Her look of shock turned quickly to heated anger when she realized her flight was delayed because of him. He swallowed his nerves. They don't have time for him to be nervous.

"I'm not ready for you to leave," he blurted out. Not the best line for a time like this, but he wasn't ready for the big one. He had only recently come to terms with the fact the he might be willing to spend his life with a woman other than Angela. He had been hoping for a little more time to understand his feelings before saying the three words he never thought he would utter again after Angela and Charlotte's deaths.

"You're not ready?" she asked barely containing her anger.

"No, Teresa, I am not ready, and to be honest I don't think I ever will be. Don't go. Give me a chance," his attempt at answering her question is pitiful. He couldn't say what she so desperately wanted to hear. Not yet.

"I don't understand, Patrick," her confusion is evident to him. His frustration was overpowering to him. He always knew what to say. Why couldn't he think of something now?

"I'm not ready to live my life without you, Teresa. I probably never will be. I'm also not ready to say what you need to hear. Give me time, Teresa," he begged. He actually begged. The pleading notes in his voice made him cringe. Patrick Jane had never begged for anything in his life. He wasn't sure what made him beg, but he hoped he would never have to do it again.

In that moment she didn't look at him, she looked through him, into his soul. The next moment she realized his left hand was bare. A kind of pure understanding crossed her beautiful features. Mixed in her indecision was a kind of hope he had never seen cross her face. The way she looked at him changed in an instant. They could never go back to the way they were. It was in the past; a past that had brought them here. His world stopped for the second time in his life. If she left he wasn't sure what would happen. The smile he had initially been expecting didn't appear. She was taking her time, and it was making him squirm.

She stood up slowly; unsure of her decision, of that he was positive. Her bags are passed to him. He can barely contain his excitement. She looked absolutely lost as she exited to plane. He couldn't tell what exactly she was thinking. In an instant the open book of Teresa Lisbon has closed a few pages, or revealed a few new secrets. He wasn't sure which. Either way he wanted to find out. He just needed time to get to know here again.

He wondered what she was ready for at this moment. They were now partners in an intricate dance neither knew all of the steps to. Frankly, it scared him. He will never know if she saw the fear on his face, or if she came to some conclusion in her own mind when she took his hand. All he remembered was holding her hand as they exited to airport together. Ready to figure out what they were together.


End file.
